


Twenty Six

by Venstar



Series: Meaningless Scars [26]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-16 22:37:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15447369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Venstar/pseuds/Venstar
Summary: from the anonymous prompt: hunger games AU, AU not crossover. I don't want to see Katniss anywhere near this





	Twenty Six

They’ve gathered the children, from ages twelve through eighteen to the center of the town square. Unless you’re on death’s door, you have to attend, it’s mandatory. Two children will be picked as a sacrifice for the uprising so long ago no one outside of the Capital cares to think about. Boys and girls are separated, but it doesn’t matter. They draw from one huge pool of names. Sometimes it’s two boys or two girls that are sent to the Hunger Games. I myself could give a shit who I’m paired up with. I could stay here and die of starvation or by the hand of someone else who is desperate not to die of salvation. Death within the Games would be quicker, probably more painful, but at least this fucking life would be over.

“James!” Alec hisses my name. He’s older and is standing in the row of 18 year olds. He winks at me and jostles to the rear of his age group. He’s my best friend, and dumb as a rock, but don’t tell him I said that.

“What?” I hiss in annoyance. He’ll just bring the peacekeepers attention to us. “Turn around you bastard, pay attention!”

“Why?” Alec asks, a grin on his face. “You think I’m scared?”

I frown at him. Of all the stupid people in the world, why did my best friend have to be the stupidest. “Alec…” 

“Alright, alright, spoilsport.” Alec turns around and the ceremony has gone on around us as he’s been distracting me with his chatter. 

I shift, I’m hungry and I’m wearing shoes that are too small, but we have to look nice for this reaping, so they’re the only ones I had. Mother made a fuss about them. Father made a joke about sending me to my death wearing my good underpants. Mother hasn’t talked to him since. They survived their reaping times. Here’s hoping that someday I’ll make it. 

The Capital representative has stopped talking and our Mayor, M has presented her with the bowl containing our names. Something jostles me and I look down. It’s a boy, he’s in the wrong age group. “The 12 year olds are over there.” I shove him in the shoulder, pushing him back. He pushes me back and I’m surprised, there’s a strength to his slight figure.

“I’m sixteen, same as you.” He straightens his own threadbare good clothes and scuffles his shoes that are also probably too small on him in the dust. He’s smaller than me, but that could change...if we were fed enough and he’s so scrawny, he doesn’t look like he’s been fed enough. He’s scowling at me now. Eyes large and green behind thick spectacles. “Pay attention, he hisses.” It’s like I’ve become Alec. I smile at him and turn, ignoring him once more, but my smile freezes on my face.

ALEC TREVELYAN!

The name echoes over and over and over again in my head and over the silent crowd. NO! NO! Alec’s looking at me in horror. Of the years we’ve done this, we’ve always managed to avoid being called, there’s just so many of us. He reaches for me, I can see the peacekeepers pushing through to him. He’s got seconds to live...Alec’s got siblings, mouths to feed and protect, whereas I...“I VOLUNTEER!” The words are coming out of my mouth before I realize what I’m doing. “I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE. ME! HERE!” I push my way through. Alec’s calling my name, but the Capital representative is clapping her hands and demanding the peacekeepers bring me. I’m dragged to the podium. Somewhere I can hear my Mother crying. I hope Father doesn’t make any jokes.  
The representative is speaking to me. I don’t care what she’s saying really but she’s shoved the damn microphone in front of me and is making encouraging motions with her hand. I repeat myself. “I volunteer as tribute.”

“Name dear,” She hisses at me. “For the record and your audience!”

“Bond. James Bond.” I blurt the name into the microphone and she claps her hands like a child given a sweet. 

“Wonderful. We’ve never had a volunteer from District MI6! Give James a hand everyone, congratulations! Now, why did you decide to volunteer Mr. Bond?” She presses the microphone closer to me and I answer.

“He’s my best friend.” There’s a scuffle from where I saw Alec last. The peacekeepers are beating him down. It’s no use to resist them. Let it go, Alec, let it go.

“Well then, we should all be lucky to have a best friend like that!” She gives a dramatic sigh and then snaps her fingers impatiently for the bowl of names. I close my eyes and pray she doesn’t call Alec’s name again, we’ve all sold something for extra turns in the bowl.

“Q!” Her name snaps out across the grounds and I open my eyes. Q? I look around for this person. Who only names their child with one letter. Oh no.

There’s more shuffling from where I had been standing and the boy with the dark curly hair, green eyes and thick spectacles is surrounded by the peacekeepers. He merely pushes his glasses up with one delicate finger...his middle finger before he avoids the hands of the peacekeepers and glides forward through the crowd. As one, the kids part for him and he soon stands in front of the podium, a haughty look on his face as he peers up at myself and the representative. One of us would live and one of us would die.


End file.
